This is a little jumbled (even in comparison to most of what I write); so be attentive, and if need be, read twice.
We had fireworks. Not just morning glories and
artillery shells, or even New York seascapes with the dazzle
burning in the water.
No, we had the Grand Fourth,
in Falmouth, Kentucky,
with lightening bug glitter dusted over the trees
and heat lightening threatening over every horizon.
Me, standing knee deep in the back pond;
breathless, crying, circling endlessly to take it all in –
panorama of the show of three towns and hundreds of redneck, patriotic neighbors
shouting sparks in the air for six straight hours.
And the cicadas from layers and layers of farms swarmed
in the harmony of shrieks, roars, and electrified crackle.
then the thunder of approaching storms.
I blinked, unable to breathe when there was
Too much beauty.
Like coming up over a garbage dump
to find the Himalayas guarding the stark contrast of grey sky,
the stinking heap of rust rags and oil. And dropping your jaw and hands in witness, shock, and awe.
I know it, I understand that insufferable perception. I was there to see you
when you spoke and turned my head, my heart, my soul like an easy key.
I learned to breathe acid, to accept the Himalayas.
So you see, when we built the impossible, when I turned my eyes to you in the night
and touched your face just to be sure, just to let my skin know, “Yes, he is there.”
Well, that was more than everything.
And now, with the empty curve of my hands
curling into fists in the night when I wake up hearing you, and turn to remember that you’ve left two years ago. . .
Then I sense the touch of things around me grinding to a halt. My breath thins and I close my eyes picturing
what does not seem real: The crest of those impossible mountains,
the taste of the snow in the air; your impish grin teaching me all hope, all despair.
And I walk my simple footsteps, checking all the eyes
around me for the light I’ve seen in mine -- just the trace of that unattainable discovery.
I look over shoulders, street signs, car lanes,
Looking for a face or just the feel…
[This message has been edited by grandiloquent (edited 07-25-99).]